Wait For It
by Sira's Tales
Summary: Sometimes even a queen has a daring moment.


Wait For It

_Love doesn't discriminateBetween the sinnersAnd the saintsIt takes and it takes and it takesAnd we keep loving laugh and we cry and we breakAnd we make our if there's a reason I'm by her sideWhen so many have triedThen I'm willing to wait for it. _

_Hamilton – the musical_

He blinked once, then a second time, his tongue sneaking out to wet too dry lips. This was... unexpected. He wondered if to speak out or to pretend he hadn't seen a thing.

Ridiculous. It was just a bra strap, a black bra strap to be exact, peaking out under a rose silk. There shouldn't be a dilemma. To speak or not to speak, and usually, he wouldn't mind giving a discreet hint.  
In this case, though, the woman tempting his resolve was the queen of Genovia, and if anybody else saw her that way, especially the dignitaries she was supposed to meet in a few minutes, or even worse, the press that wouldn't miss the chance to get at least a picture of her, there would be more than one lewd comment to face.

Looking into the rear view mirror one more time, he was surprised when she was looking back at him, their eyes meeting for a second only, even if it seemed much longer to him. Taking in a deep breath, he willed himself to focus on the traffic and not on what he thought had been an expression of veiled amusement paired with a small smile.

Could it be she was teasing him on purpose? Surely not. She was a queen, and he was nothing more than her head of security, her driver when needed. Although hadn't he told her she had been wearing black for too long, and she had changed her wardrobe almost instantly?  
Well, this didn't mean a thing.

No, that wasn't true. They were friends, in their own way, and she had always valued his opinion. It was more than a professional relationship, had been for decades.

He looked up again, was met with the same expression than before, although he would've sworn her smile had deepened somewhat.

It shouldn't affect him that badly. It shouldn't affect him at all.

He should ignore it, just as he was ignoring the spark of something between them that had been there almost from the very beginning. In spite of their different standings in life, they understood each other on an instinctual level. In another life… maybe… well, he couldn't change the past, couldn't change their social status now. Their friendship had to be enough, it was more than he could've ever expected. She didn't need to know how his heartbeat sped up when she smiled at him a certain way, how something warm blossomed inside of him every time he heard her rich laugh, or how he'd wanted to weep with her when she had lost her husband, then her son.

No, his feelings should never concern her, nor should his dreams of her. Dreams in which he was allowed more than a short spin on the dance floor or holding her hand for the briefest of moments.

When he had been younger, his mother had told him that one day he would meet a woman who would take his breath away, that he would look at her and know she'd be the one. It had happened just as his mother had told him it would. He hadn't counted on falling in love with a woman destined to be out of his reach forever.

So why would she want to tempt him? She wouldn't. It was rather that he was losing his mind. He snorted quietly.

"Joseph, what is it?" she said, her voice sounding innocent. Too innocent.

They had reached their destination, and he took his time to park the limousine before turning his head.

"It's nothing."

"No?"

Their gazes met for a long moment, and without knowing why, he now felt sure she had done this one purpose.

The spark. It never had been one-sided. Oh, it had been safe for as long as she was married. Now… well, it was still a pipe dream. There couldn't ever be…

"Yes, it was nothing," he confirmed.

She nodded once, her smile turning wistful. He had to force himself to turn and exit the car, helping her out.

He'd expected her to right her clothes in the seconds it took him to round the car, bit when he held out his hand to her, the bra strap was still in plain sight.

He almost laughed out. Her expression, neutral once more, told him she had pushed the woman back, had let the queen take over the reigns once again. Duty trumped everything, a lesson that had been drilled into her at a young age. She was a graceful ruler, it seemed to come natural to her.

Still, a lot of Mia's traits had come from the queen, Clarisse, herself. It was a well guarded secret in Genovia, that like her granddaughter, Clarisse had her clumsy moments. It hardly ever happened any longer, years of being in the spotlight having made sure Clarisse was aware of her every movement, and yet, now and then…  
It was now, she had obviously forgotten about the strap that had derailed his thinking rather badly those last few minutes. Oh my.

There was no way that he'd allow others to see her this way.

She looked up, wanted to pass him, but then she stopped, frowning at him, making him wonder what his face looked like right now. Yes, he didn't like the thought of others thinking of her 'that' way.

It was now that he had to speak out. She couldn't leave like this, and they couldn't stay rooted to the spot either. It would attract attention within the next minute and not the kind they wanted.

He opened his mouth, yet, instead of telling her to right her clothes, one of his hands came up, his fingers reaching for the strap, subtly sliding it under her shirt.

Clarisse's eyes widened, and he felt her soft skin shiver sightly under his touch. His breath caught, and his body tensed as it yearned to get closer to her. One forbidden touch, and his resolve threatened to dissolve right here and now. Wanting to know how she felt underneath his fingers, how she'd taste was a primal urge that got harder to cage every day.

The expression on her face, the mixture of longing and hope, it would be his undoing if he didn't step back now, right now.

It hit him like another punch to the gut: he would never stop loving her, would never stop wanting her, and maybe there was a chance for them after all.

It was Clarisse who stepped back, cleared her throat quietly.

"Thank you, Joseph."

He swallowed even though his throat was dry, nodded once.

"You're welcome, your Majesty."

At the mention of her title, she winced slightly, then her shoulders squared. It made him curse himself. What else could he have done, though? They were who they were, had to accept it. Yet...

"Well, we better get going then."

"But of course."

Moving right behind her, he knew she was the vice he'd never be able to quit, and he was okay with that. Sometimes miracles could happen, and maybe one would happen for them. For now, he was willing to wait for it.


End file.
